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SECONn OOPY, 



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Edwin and Eleanor 

A Pastoral 

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Pioneer Life 



By y 
A. D. MDCCCXCIX. 



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Copyright im9 \ 
by A. C. HOUGHTON 
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Edwin and Eleanor 






T the rustic hand loom in the pioneer's cabin, 
Fair Eleanor sat weaving. The bright winter 
sun-ray 

That hasted thro branches of trees and the narrow-paned 
Window, contentedly rested its course from 
The sky, while it tinted the glow on her cheek, 
And the gold in her hair, and rejoiced with her fingers 
That flew in delight o'er the loom with the swift going 
Shuttles and web-beating heddles. The ray and 
The fingers sped merrily on, as together 
They plotted and planned in their thoughts, o'er the soft 
Woolen cloth on the loom that was weaving from fleecy 
Brown thread she had spun on her low treddle wheel, 
While her own thoughts were dreamily, busily, weaving 
A web of a different texture and hue, on 
That old-fashioned loom, not alone found adorning 
The corners of cabins, but ever illuming 



The maidenly heart the world over. And thus thro 

The day the glad weaving went on, the muffled 

Rebound of the loom, and the low silver song of 

Her voice, keeping measure and cadence in musical 

Strain, till the light-hearted sun-ray had fled 

To the sky, and the fingers were weary with weaving. 

The warm yellow glow from the fire-place was lighting 

The cabin's low room, as she took from the loom 

The fair fabric her fingers and fancy had made 

In the sim-light, and held it aloft to behold 

And admire. And her wonder was deep and delightfully 

Strange as she saw, in the maze of the web that was 

Woven, a bright gleaming thread that was golden. 

What shuttle had borne it, or how it was beaten 

Thro warp and in woof, was a mystery deep which 

Her thought or her dreams could not solve; neither yet 

Did she care, all content to behold and to know 

It was there and believe in her heart it was wrought 

By the hand of the Master, in sign of his seal 

On the love that was weaving its web in the loom 

Of her life. 



^ 




II 



jflRO the far ancient forest where still was 

The haunt and the wandering abode of great 
nature' s 

Wild children, where curling blue smoke from the pioneer's 
Home marked the wide scattered outposts of man, 
All alone journeyed Edwin. He threaded his way 
Thro the intricate maze of the gray beechen wood, 
With an instinct that needed no guide. The long winter 
Was folding its mantle away, and the hungry 
Red deer, browsing buds from low branches, turned large 
Startled eyes on the swift going figure that heeded 
Her not. With a heart that was bounding and step 
That was buoyantly eager, he sped on his way 
Over miles that seemed nothing. For glad was the sunlight 
That filled full the forest, and glad was the south wind 
That played through the branches and wakened to life 
The young buds of the spring; but the gladness of Edwin 
Was warmer than southwind, was brighter than sunshine; 
It filled full his heart as he strode thro the forest 
With glory that gilded the sun-light above; 



It wakened to life in the depths of his soul, 

Buds of promise more dear and divine than was born 

Of the southwind and sun. And thus onward he journeyed, 

Athletic and tall, as erect as the beech tree 

That towered above him, and strong in the might 

Of his conscious possession of power that laughed 

At the struggle of felling the forest and clearing 

The field. And although 'twas alone thro the wildwood 

He journeyed, he felt not alone, but companioned 

With angels of love and rejoicing, as onward 

He went to be wed unto Eleanor the fair. 



^ 



Ill 




HE keen ax of the woodman rang out thro the 
forest, 
The echo repeating the story of doom 



To its monarchs and glory. 'Twas now it was breaking 
The shadows of ages, and opening the way 
■Of the sun to the field and its fruitage; and now 
It was felling the beech and the maple, and cutting 
Their trunks into lengths for a cabin — the pioneer's 
Castle of logsT' And there Edwin was waging 
His battle, undaunted and strong ; for with might 
I And his bride on his side, and a home as reward 

For his triumph, the darkness of shadow, and myriad 
Of trees, were as nothing against him. And there 
He was building his cabin : still bearing the bark 
As it grew on the tree in the forest, round log 
Was lifted on log and was piled to the eaves 
And the gables, and covered with shakes riven out 
From the heart of the oak, laid in rows on the rafters. 
The chimney was laid up with cross-sticks and plastered 
With clay from the wayside. The great open fire-place 



Filled half of the end of the cabin, and made ample 

Room for the backlog and forelog. The heavy 

Iron crane, with its treasures of kettles, swung out from 

The jamb; while the broad battened doors, hung on stout 

Wooden hinges were opened with string-lifted latches. 

The light of the sun found its way thro the windows 

Of tiny glass panes, and adorned as a nig of 

Bright color, the smooth wooden floor. And the cupboards^. 

And cases, with panels and shelves, that were framed 

By his hand and were set in the wall for the books 

And the dishes, were memories of comfort and culture 

That came from the far distant home of his boyhood. 

And there stood his cabin, in rustic completeness, 

Surrounded by maples that clustered about it, 

As though to protect, and to keep it, a ward of 

The forest. With proud beating heart, and an eagerness 

Born of devotion, he brought to the cabin's 

Fair threshold sweet Eleanor his bride ; and the grace 

Of a home, as a bright transformation, illumined 

That cabin with light all divine. And there, 

At the threshold of life in the dark forest shadow, 

They lingered together and built, in the glow 



Of the light from their hearth, and the fervor that burned 

In their bosoms, their altar of worship to God. 

With glad hands and full heart she o'er spread to adorn it, 

The golden thread fabric that came from her loom, 

While he laid on the altar the Book of their faith 

With their names written full on its white title-page 

And the days of their wedding and birth. In contrition 

They knelt by their altar erected, and offered 

Their lives and affections upon it, invoked 

The Great Father to dwell with his children. 

And thus 
Did they build, with rejoicing and courage, a home 
In the midst of the ancient dark forest; and brave 
In the love which they bore to each other, and true 
To their faith in the God of their altar, and glad 
In the strength which makes living delightful, they took up 
The burdens that come in the pioneer's life. 
The great sun in the heaven looked down thro the clearing, 
And blessed the rich earth with his life-giving power; 
Gay birds of the wild- wood a welcome song made, 
To the nest builders young who had come to the little 
lyOg cabin, far out in the gray beechen forest. 



f 



IV 




JpSr a day the glad earth, ever nurtured in shadow 
And moisture, unfolding a power, unconscious, 
That comes in seclusion, rejoiced in the gift 



Of the light from the sun ; it awakened new purpose 

Within her full bosom, awakened the instinct 

Of warm mother-hood. And soon forth from the earth 

To rejoice their creator, enwrapt in the sunlight 

And wet with the dew, came to birth the sweet flowers, 

And fair blades of corn; and the fragrant new harvest 

Was golden. 

A cradle was placed in the heart of 
The pioneer's cabin, set close b^^ the altar, 
A cradle of walnut- wood, made by the skilled hand 
Of Edwin; and Eleanor fair, with the tenderest 
Care, in the cradle-bed laid their love's offspring. 
O, sweet on earth's breast were the wild fiow'rs that grew! 
Ever rich in the field was the bright j^ellow corn! 
But far richer than corn in the ripe golden field. 
Ever sweeter than fiow'rs, were the prattle and play 



Of the children who romped thro the cabin and sang^ with 
The birds in the wild wood. 

Oft Eleanor would watch 
As they played by the great open fire-place, and shade 
Her glad eyes with her hand to behold and admire ; 
And her wonder grew deep and delightfully strange, 
As she saw in the features and forms of her children, 
In-woven thro all, the bright glow of a light 
Which she knew came from heaven, and full of the promise 
Of good and fruition divine. And deep in 
Her heart as the days came and went, she besought 
The Great Master that all thro the lives of her children, 
Wrought into the web as it grew on the loom of 
Life's weaving, might ever appear that mysterious 
Thread which is golden ! 



e^ 



I 



I 



I 




EARS came, and they went, 
Ah, so swift did they go ! And the story of 
changes 

That came in their lives as the years hurried by. 
Is the story that over and over, with shifting of 
Scene, is retold in the lives of us all. 
The wild forest had gone at the blow of the woodman, 
And broad fertile fields spread their face to the sun 
For his blessing. The cabin of logs, with its hallowed 
Shrines, gave its place to the low windowed cottage 
Embowered in vines. And the village that grew 
By the river, uplifting its spires o'er the hill, 
Bro't the great throbbing world with its life to their thres- 
hold. 
The heavens above had grown wider; the duty 
To neighbor and country grown broader; and burdens 
All new to their shoulders were borne with true courage 
And honor. 

I^ife's joys that were tasted, had gone, 
As the day goes to darkness, until a new dawn 



i 



Shall arise; yet their memories bright, in the heart 

Deeply stored, lingered long tow'rd the oncoming twilight. 

The near coming world, with its hurrying life, 

In its train bro't fair idols of worship, in liveried 

Vestments of fashion and power, which wakened 

Their fancy and longing; and yet as they sought them. 

In half doubting service, had crumbled away, 

And had left them but ashes. The children whose prattle 

And singing, had startled sweet echoes in fairy -land 

Wood, o'er whose dimples and frolic they doted 

And tarried, grew on to the serious days, 

Where the ways have a parting, and hearts a re-mating. 

Entwined in their lives, was earth's bitter-sweet vine. 

With its gladness and sadness, and touching their souls 

With its mellowing, ripening power. 

But bitterer 
Still grew the red cup of trial, that pressed to their 
I<ips to be drained; and the wan troubled cheeks, 
And the tearless hot eyes, told their story of struggle 
And deep sacred fear, as the angry dark shadow 
Of war for the life of a nation in peril, 
Swept over the land and their homes; and the far reaching 
Call for the offering of life's richest gift to be 



lyaid on the altar of country, rang out as the 

Clarion voice of the Angel of Duty ! 

The currents of life-blood stood still in their hearts, 

As they yearned to withhold, from the terror of battle, 

And fever of camp, the fair sons of their soul — and yet 

would not; 
For there burned in their bosoms the fire of devotion 
And courage for country, that lighted the way of 
Their fathers in dark gloomy conflict for home and 
The right of a land to be free. And thro long 
Anxious days measuring on Into years, they still prayed 
For their nation and arms, ever waited and watched 
The return of their young soldier boy from the war — 
And he came not ! 

And now the swift course of the years 
Seemed a dream in their flight, as their hearts caught the 

strains 
From a far-away land, where the hopes they had cherished 
Might come once again. The green hill and the meadow, 
And stream going by them, still were dear as the scene 
Of their life's loving toil; but it told of the days, 
Now long since passed away, when the vigor of youth, 
And the joy of endeavor, had filled the years full 



With delight. The strong step that was buoyant, and voice 
That commanded, grew gentle and slow; and the form 
That was lofty, which conquered the forest, was bent 
With the weight of the years, and life's burden of cares; 
Yet the hearts that still beat in their bosoms, were saintly 
And warm as the heart of a child. 

One by one 
Old companions in toil and privation, their neighbors 
In sorrow and need, dropped away to their rest in 
The church-yard; and narrow and lone in the wide 
Busy world, grew their pathway. The shadows were long 
By the low cottage door, and the wind thro the branches 
Moaned softly in minors. 

And then in the ripeness 
Of years, after tears with their burning and toil with 
Its bending, and after the fever and passion 
Of life, like a great benediction from heaven. 
Came peace — like the river that floweth, out-winding 
Its way from the deep shadowed forest, and seeking 
Its home in the sea. Calm and gentle it goeth, 
Embraced by its banks low and green which it blesses, 
It passeth the light tower that signals the ships in 
The offing. The great sun in heaven is sinking 



To rest. The broad river has caught his last ray on 
Its quivering tide; and far out to the foam-crested 
Breakers, its course is a thread that is golden 
"With light ; and the river and sun in the ocean 
Go out mid a glory our eyes may not see! 



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